


Johnlockdown

by Hope_Austen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Pandemic - Freeform, Quarantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope_Austen/pseuds/Hope_Austen
Summary: Sherlock, John and Rosie have been self-isolating for a month. John begins to wonder: Why is Sherlock not bored?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 221





	Johnlockdown

Just a note: I don’t know the intricacies of the UK’s health system and the options for telehealth. For the sake of this drabble, John is working from home and providing online services to patients. Thanks and I hope you enjoy this little fic. :)

* * * * *

It was strange, John mused as he finished washing the dinner dishes and placed them to dry on a small rack on the worktop. 

It had been four weeks since he and Sherlock and Rosie had started self-isolating due to the pandemic. John had been working as part of a telehealth network and was able to work from home, conducting online consultation, providing diagnosis, referring patients and prescribing medication. Mrs. Hudson, relieved that John could work from the safety of his own home, had allowed him to set up a rudimentary office in 221C. So depending on his shift, he “went to work” leaving Rosie and Sherlock to conduct experiments, prepare culinary “delights,” and experience adventure. John never knew what he’d find when he finished work and walked back upstairs into the flat. One time it was a castle made of blankets. Another time it was a pirate ship in their sitting room (which looked very much like their sofa). Evenings, when John wasn’t on-call, were full of conversation, films and board games (even a lively, follow-the-rules version of Cluedo). Then, after Rosie went to bed, those same evenings took a quiet turn as two men sat comfortably in front of the fire, sometimes reading, sometimes talking and sometimes enjoying the soft strains of a violin. 

Yes, it was strange, John thought as he pulled down two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. 

Not the working from home. 

Not the family time. 

Not even the odd things Sherlock and Rosie prepared for dinner.

What was strange was that in all of this time, Sherlock didn’t seem … bored.

In fact, John had never seen the detective so utterly disinterested in the criminal classes. He didn’t text Greg for cases. He didn’t even study any cold case files. And yet, conversely, he seemed absolutely engaged and fascinated with Rosie and her interests. Granted, John had to put an immediate halt to the Barbie-Ken-and-friends crime scene that Sherlock and Rosie had constructed one afternoon on the sitting room floor (“Looks like a jealous lover scenario, John.”), but other than that, Sherlock seemed … content?

The corner of John’s mouth quirked up a bit just thinking about it.

As he watched the liquid glide into the two glasses, he couldn’t help but think that he, himself, was feeling content, too. And grateful. The people he loved were healthy. He had employment. They had food and shelter. Not everyone was so fortunate during these times. His brow crinkled a bit as he pondered that. What else could his Baker Street family do, he thought, to help those who needed it most right now? John would find a time to talk to Sherlock about it. Between the two of them, he felt confident they could come up with a plan.

He picked up the glasses and made his way to the sitting room where Sherlock was already perched in his chair, reading a book on apiaries. John handed him one of the glasses and took his own comfy seat as a fire popped in the grate nearby.

Sherlock took a sip and studied John carefully as the older man settled himself and took a sip of his own drink.

“What?” John asked.

“You’re thinking,” Sherlock stated, his eyes narrowing a bit. 

“I do that on occasion,” John quipped.

“You’re thinking about what we could do to help more people in this crisis,” Sherlock continued.

“You know,” John shook his head. “After all these years, you’d think I’d get used to your spot-on deductions. But you still amaze me. Every. Single. Time.”

John took another sip from his glass, and watched Sherlock turn to look at the fire. The doctor couldn’t tell if the slight blush that had colored the detective’s cheeks was from John’s compliment, Sherlock’s drink, or the heat of the fire. 

It was these moments that John allowed himself to admire the beauty of the man sitting across from him. Yes, John had admitted to himself awhile ago that Sherlock was physically attractive, but it was his friends’ inner beauty that John loved—Sherlock’s loyalty, the care he gave to others, his protective nature, his irritation with mediocrity, his passion for science—John loved the whole package. In fact, he had come to terms about a year ago that he was “in love” with Sherlock. But he knew the detective was married to his Work, and that the Work was important. And, John had decided he wasn’t going to be the one to break up that perfect marriage.

Besides, there were times when the relationship between Sherlock and himself still seemed so fragile. Even though the “Eurus situation” had taken place several years ago, John still felt that he and Sherlock were still getting their feet back under them. And since earning Sherlock’s forgiveness, John was determined never to do something to upset the delicate balance the two of them had built over these past few years. 

So, he allowed himself to steal moments like these, when he could look fondly upon his best friend, knowing that he (John) would spend the rest of his life trying to be a true and faithful friend to Sherlock and an able partner and blogger to the great Sherlock Holmes.

Suddenly, an ember popped loudly, startling John out of his reverie. As he glanced at his friend, he realized that Sherlock was still staring intently into the flames. John took another sip of his drink and set it down on a side table.

“Sherlock?” John quietly asked, watching as the detective blinked a few times and brought himself out of whatever room of his Mind Palace in which he had lost himself.

John continued, “I was just wondering … well, we’ve been cooped up here for about a month and you don’t seem … I don’t know … you don’t appear to be … bored.”

Sherlock looked at John incredulously, which at this point in their lives didn’t even phase the doctor.

“Why would I be bored?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, I don’t know,” John said. “In the past you couldn’t go 24 hours without a case before wanting to pull out your hair. And I know we’re both older now and things have … happened. Priorities have shifted. But still … I thought the pandemic and the self-isolating and the lack of crime would have you climbing the walls by now.”

John watched as several emotions played out on Sherlock’s face, until one finally settled there that John recognized as trepidation. Sherlock fiddled with the glass that he held in his lap and John cocked his head, waiting patiently for his friend to finish processing his thoughts into words that a muggle like John would understand. 

Finally, Sherlock looked up and stared directly into John’s eyes. The determination the doctor saw there almost made him catch his breath.

“I can understand why you may have come to the false hypothesis that I’d be bored over the last few weeks,” Sherlock began. “My past behavior did provide only a partial data set in which to work. That coupled with the knowledge you have that my brain has an innate tendency toward necessary stimulation could lead you to your present conclusion.”

It was John’s turn to blink a few times as he felt himself slipping into some sort of consulting detective TED talk. Leave it to Sherlock to provide a scientific explanation for an everyday observation.

“However, John, you’ve made an inaccurate assumption in your deduction,” the detective continued.

“And what is that?” John asked curiously.

“You assumed that solving crimes is the only way for me to alleviate boredom and keep my mind engaged,” Sherlock answered. “When in fact, over the last few years, I’ve discovered that life offers more than I had thought in terms of interesting situations. And, the human condition, to which I had become indifferent almost to the point of repulsion, actually provides fascinating scenarios and explanations for a myriad of physical, social and psychological behaviors.”

Sherlock looked at John as if he’d made his point clear, and John desperately wanted the detective to feel understood, but the doctor’s facial expression must have betrayed his confusion, because Sherlock’s face wilted a little and he looked back down at the glass in his lap. “That is to say,” he mumbled. “I’ve learned that certain people I know provide an endless source of fascination for me.”

John’s heart began to beat a little faster. “Certain people?” he inquired. “Who?”

Sherlock took a large gulp of his whiskey and set it down on the floor near his chair. “Well, Rosie for one,” he answered. “She finds joy in little things that I didn’t even realize existed.”

John couldn’t help the warm smile that formed on his face. “Yes, she’s quite brilliant at that, isn’t she?” 

Sherlock hummed in agreement.

“You said ‘people’, plural,” John prodded, hoping that the conversation was turning in a direction that might open a door that he thought had been bolted shut. “Who else do you find stimulating?”

John noticed Sherlock shift slightly in his seat and look away again toward the fire, and John joined him, their faces taking in the warmth and light. There were several moments of quiet, with just the soft hiss of flames accompanying the dancing shadows across the walls. Then suddenly, a soft whisper broke through.

“You.”

John jerked his neck to look at Sherlock’s profile. The doctor’s heart was definitely beating faster and harder and John could feel his breath hitch slightly as Sherlock slowly turned to face him.

“You have always been the most fascinating human being I’ve ever known, John,” Sherlock stated, almost resolutely. “You’re a mixture of protection and danger; peace and chaos. You’re a dichotomy. The greatest puzzle I’ve ever encountered. And the thing is, you don’t even realize it. Because it’s just who you are. And I lo—I love the whole person … you … I love you.”

John felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, hardly believing that the beautiful sentiment coming out of Sherlock’s mouth was directed at him. 

“So, if I have to be isolated with anyone,” Sherlock continued, “I can’t think of two people I’d rather be with than Rosie and you. I’m grateful that in this moment I get to share in your lives.”

John felt tears forming that he wasn’t sure he wanted to try to hold in.

“And that’s why I’m not bored,” Sherlock concluded with a shy shrug.

John opened his mouth to try to speak but words failed him. Helplessly, he looked at his friend, who was staring back at him with wide, searching eyes. So, John did the only thing he could think to do. He stood up and hovered over the detective, slowly bringing his hand to brush Sherlock’s cheek. Then, he lowered his face within inches of his friend’s and whispered brokenly, “I’m so in love with you, Sherlock. I always have been and I always will be.” 

John placed a soft kiss onto his best friend’s lips, awakening every dream that had long been buried. As the kiss deepened, Sherlock guided John into his lap, the two of them stroking each other’s shoulders, chests and every bit of skin they could find. Eventually, they reluctantly broke away, panting into each other’s mouths, trying to catch their breaths. 

“John,” Sherlock gasped. “I can think of only one thing that would bore me right now.”

“What’s that?” John slurred.

“Breathing.”

John couldn’t help but giggle at that, as he caressed Sherlock’s cheek and shared a smile with the man he loved.

Then Sherlock’s expression turned a bit predatory as he fisted the front of John’s jumper and murmured in his best low register, “Got your breath back?”

John smirked, “Ready when you are.”

And they both dove in for another passionate kiss.


End file.
